The fire

On The Run

"Pain au chocolat, sil vous plaît." The guy behind the patisserie counter nodded at my order and handed me the pastry in a transparent packet.

"Merci beaucoup." I thanked handing him over the exact change.

"Bonne journée." He replied smiling.

I didn't like being in Paris, too many people, too many eyes. All it took was for one person to recognise me from Shield's wanted posters and I was back a caged animal. I had only meant to be in the city for a 12 hours-16 at most, to gather food, drink and supplies. But the motorbike I stole broke down about 10 miles out from the HYDRA base. By the time I finally reached Paris there were posters up everywhere. They were written in French obviously but I'll translate for you:

WANTED, EMILIA TAYLOR
Last seen on route to Paris.
Extremely dangerous- do not approach.
If spotted call 0444 737.

The message was followed by a very flattering mugshot which had previously been displayed on my Shield ID badge. Why did Shield want to find me so badly? If anything they were ensuring The Mort a one track path to my whereabouts by making it a manhunt.

I pulled my sunglasses down and turned onto the path that winded along the banks of the Seine. It was a fairly hot day. Lots of tourists were all snapping photos and laughing, they were enjoying the sunshine. The whole city was buzzing with life. I mean the Tour de Eiffel's queue took up the whole base of the tower. I reached another path which lead back up to a car park and pushed myself through a group of English visitors.

"Bonjour?" I felt one of them tap me on the shoulder, their attempted French accent clearly stuttering.

"Oui?" I replied, pulling my sunnies up again. The person was female with brown hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing blue skinny jeans, converses and a white polo shirt which read the words Casington Hill Secondary School. In big black lettering.

"Malheureusement, nous sommes Perdus. Comment est-ce que je vais du musée de Louvre de ici?" The brunette asked stuttering a little as she spoke and signalling to a group of bored looking school students. It took me a second to think about where we were, the lady and her class were lost and she wanted to know how to get to the Louvre from here.

"No problem. You 'ave to continue along zis path, pass one euh Pont?" I questioned pretending to struggle to find the word. 

"Bridge?" The brunette asked.

"Oui, Bridge." I nodded smiling. "You pass one euh bridge, zen you 'ave to cross the second bridge called Pont de la Concorde. Come off ze bridge and tourne right, keep walking and you see it on your left. About 30 minute walk." I explained pointing down the busy midday crowds. The lady nodded as I spoke scribbling instructions down the back of a leaflet.

"Merci beaucoup." The teacher replied gratefully before turning to shout at her class.

I put my head back down and continued up to my motorbike. Right, time to get out of this place.

-

Clint pulled another arrow out of his sheaf and watched it as the metal point embedded itself into the dummies forehead. He placed his bow onto the rack before taking one last look at the lined up 'bodies'. Each one with implanted with an arrow in a significant area. All except one at the end. The one which Emilia had marked with her knives the morning of the HYDRA raid. Steve had refused to remove her weapons from the dummy saying she'd come back, and could do it her self. Clint didn't have the balls to tell him that she wasn't returning by choice, that he had seen how sincere the girl had been as they stood on that road side. They didn't even know if she was alive for goodness sake! For all they knew she could have died in the truck she blew up. Or The Mort could have found her. And if they had found her who then knows whether she's alive or dead.

"Thor wants another meeting." Clint remained staring at the impaled statue. Each knife had a unique engraving. "He says we need a better game plan." Natasha spoke quietly, everyone's volume had sunken since the small blonde went missing.

"Why? What's the point? The Scepta's not going to suddenly hop up and scream hello. Em's not just gonna rock up at the front door." Nat's eyes fell to the floor, she wasn't used to her best friend raising his voice at her. Clint was the most chilled of the avengers, funnily sarcastic and blunt. It wasn't in his nature to be so angry and bitter.

"Whatever, everyone's in the meeting room. Turn up or don't, I'm sure nobody will notice." The archer immediately felt bad, he hated upsetting Natasha. She hadn't shown it, but he knew he'd hit a nerve. They never got angsty with each other.

"Nat wait, I'm sorry. It's just been a long few days. I can't help thinking I should of done more to stop her." The assassin said letting out a long tired sigh.

"I get you Barton. Just remember you couldn't of done anything. She's got the best of all of us in the past. I mean she literally threw Thor through a window." Clint let out chuckle remembering their first meeting with the firework. The two of them slowly walked in silence up to where the rest of the team was waiting.

Most the team were gathered in the meeting room above Tony's workshop. Thor was in a heated debate with Fury, while Banner was sat reading some paper notes of some sought, every so often he would sigh and glance out the window, running his fingers through his dark hair. But out of everyone it was Agent Steve Rogers who looked the worse. His usually spiked up sandy hair was flat and greasy. Under his eyes sat dark black circles signalling the lack of sleep. If you got near him you could smell the distinct smell of vodka and whisky. Being a super soldier Steve couldn't get drunk but he could damn well try.

"Where's Tony?" Nat asked, as Thor angrily threw himself into a chair. Fury obviously triumphant from their dispute. The director pointed to the glass hole in the floor. Tony Stark was sat in the middle of a mess of metal bits and pieces. A small bit of his suit on fire by his feet. I think it was fair to say Stark wasn't dealing with Emilia running away very well either. None of them were. She had only been with them a while yet they all felt something for her, they all felt a need of protection over her.